


Extreme Ways

by klari19



Series: Terushima Week [3]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Federal Agents, Blood, I think????, Implied Dissociation, It s like a Jason Bourne AU of some sorts, M/M, Needles, Stitches, any thoughts?, but also not really?, idk if i should expand this tbh, injuries, mmm idk what else to tag, there s blood but i think the descriptions arent graphic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-28
Updated: 2016-08-28
Packaged: 2018-08-11 11:21:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7889611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/klari19/pseuds/klari19
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The man stepped over his enormous backpack on the floor, walking towards Terushima with both hands up. “I won’t hurt you,” he said, softly. Another step, less steady this time. “Please, help me.” His voice wavered and cracked, and he fell to his knees before face-planting on the floor with a loud <em>thump.</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	Extreme Ways

**Author's Note:**

> For [Terushima Week](http://terushimaweek.tumblr.com/), Day 7 - Free day.
> 
> Ok, hear me out, the Jason Bourne series is probably my favorite espionnage series ever, and when I saw the last one (which is amazing btw) I knew I had to write something AU'd in its universe. Teru Week seemed like the perfect occasion to do so, and then.... this happened. I hope someone enjoys this ^^ ~~Also I'm very sorry but I spent all day writing this and now I don't have the energy to edit it OTL~~

The last thing Terushima expected that evening, when he was gleefully strolling through the market looking for souvenirs, was to hear gunshots. And very much close to him, for that matter. One second he was asking—more like, gesturing—to know the price of a bottle of rum, and the next one he was crouching down in front of the stand, trying not to freak out himself as he heard screaming and shouting all around him.

The night air in the tiny outside market was almost charged with electricity—packed with danger, cracking with insecurity—and it rose the hairs in the back of Terushima’s neck when he dared raising himself just high enough to gaze over the table of the stand. With his eyes peeking over the edge he saw that the people were moving, lifting themselves from the ground to run to the exit. The vendor he had been speaking to was already gone. Everyone was looking for their salvation in the middle of the chaos that had erupted around them.

Still crouching a little, Terushima slowly rose to his feet—then dove back down to the ground when he heard a shot being fired behind him. The small weight of his backpack was soothing as he pressed himself down against the dirty floor. A string of curses, loud enough to be heard at a ten-meter radius around him, fell from his lips until he had half a mind to shut himself up so as not to attract attention to himself. Tears streamed down his cheeks—he didn’t notice them in that moment—when he clasped a hand over his mouth, curses mixed with prayers and whatnot still coming out of his mouth in mutters.

Then there was a hand on his shoulder. “You speak Japanese?” The person—a man, if their low pitch was anything to go by—had spoken very close to Terushima’s ear.

Terushima would have screeched in terror if he hadn’t been so happy to hear the language of his homeland, so far away from the place he’d chosen to visit that summer. He nodded frantically, whimpering “ _Yes, yeah, I do!_ ” through his fingers without even turning around to look at the stranger. But when he did turn his head to the side, his eyes landing on the man’s hand—

It was completely bloodied up to his wrist, where his black sleeve covered his skin.

Terushima froze and his mind shut down for a second until the stranger shook him, bloody hand squeezing Terushima’s shoulder just shy of painfully.

“Come with me,” the man said. A plea was gracefully disguised beneath his firm tone.

Unable to think anymore, Terushima nodded again. He rose from the ground, feeling himself start being dragged forward by a hand around his wrist even before he was stable on his feet. Terushima thought he heard the man murmur “ _I’m sorry_ ,” but he couldn’t be sure.

The gunshots had stopped, and Terushima half realized that it was probably because the stranger—who definitely had something to do with them, although he didn’t have a gun himself—had dragged him into the mass of escaping customers and market vendors. They walked hurriedly to match the pace of the group, shouldering people aside in their advance while being shouldered past themselves.

Terushima couldn’t see, couldn’t think, couldn’t hear. He didn’t know where he was going or what was happening anymore, all that kept him from passing out unconscious right then and there was the (slippery) warmth of the stranger’s fingers around his wrist.

He was brought back to reality by the man snapping his fingers before his eyes. Terushima blinked and tried to focus his pupils on the man’s eyes, but his eyes kept crossing.

“Hey!” The man clasped both hands on Terushima’s shoulders and shook him. Terushima started, an unintentional gasp making it through his lips. “Stay with me, please,” the man said as he pushed Terushima a little away from the people. He paused for a second, looking around and behind himself, as if he was being pursued. He probably was. Then, after a moment, “Do you have a car?”

Terushima’s eyes drifted left from the man’s face, and he silently pointed over his shoulder to a small silver sedan parked near the entrance of the market. Printed in big neon green characters was an announcement written in the local dialect, with its sloppy English translation reading _Rent car! Very cheap!_ underneath.

The man exhaled loudly through the nose, murmuring “Too flashy. But it’ll do… At least it’s rented.” Then he tugged on Terushima’s hand as he began walking towards the car through the people still streaming out through the market doors. “Keys,” he demanded when they reached the car, holding his hand out to Terushima.

On autopilot, Terushima shrugged his bag off his shoulders to retrieve the keys. Once the doors on his side were unlocked, the man shoved a big, heavy looking black backpack into the backseat—it was the first time Terushima noticed it—then slipped into the driver’s seat and stretched to unlock the passenger’s door. Terushima walked to it, legs wobbling lightly and threatening to give out underneath him now that he had no support, then slipped into the car as well.

“Have anywhere to sleep?” the man said, buckling his seatbelt. (Terushima was conscious enough to find that a little funny, given the situation of extreme danger then were already in. But he followed the good example anyway.)

“Yeah,” he croaked. He was forcing himself to speak, to be sure that the man would hear him even if he wasn’t looking at him.

“Show me the way.” The car slid into the road.

✧ ✧ ✧

The hotel Terushima was staying at for the duration of his visit was very far from a five-star inn, but it was good enough for him. The stranger seemed to be of the same accord, humming approvingly, mostly to himself, when they pulled into the small parking lot.

Turning off the engine and retrieving the keys from the ignition, the man exited the car—Terushima heard him grunt faintly from his seat—and picked up his bag from the backseat. Slightly better but still in a daze, Terushima extracted himself from his own space. He closed the door and walked up to the man on the other side, fidgeting when he stopped in front of him.

“Um,” Terushima started, eyes unable to settle on anything in the relative darkness. “How’re you gonna—”

The man interrupted him, “What’s your room number?”

Terushima blinked. “Thirty-seven. Third floor.”

“I’ll meet you there,” the man said, and started walking towards the back of the building.

Terushima remained for a moment where he was left, trying to take back his composure. He decided not to wonder how on Earth the man would enter the building without being caught as he made his way to the front door of the hotel. Midway through the small parking lot Terushima remembered about the man’s hands on his shoulders, about how his jacket must have bloody marks on it. He shrugged off his backpack, pulled his light jacket off his shoulders, and shoved it into his bag.

Stepping carefully into the small lobby Terushima was greeted by the old receptionist’s cheerful voice. Although she spoke a very broken English that didn’t stop her from smiling when she asked, “Tired from long visit day?” Terushima gave her a small smile and a nod in response, not trusting his voice yet. “Good sleep tonight, then!” The old lady said, beaming at him.

Terushima climbed the stairs slowly, one at a time, mind blank as he made his way to the third floor. He walked down the now familiar hallway, starting to feel more and more comfortable now that he was about to reach his room. Taking the keys out of his backpack once more Terushima unlocked the door and stepped inside, then flicked on the light and locked the door once more.

A shiver coursed down his spine then, his body sensing the presence behind him even before his voice spoke up. Terushima didn’t move, didn’t breathe.

“Did you tell anyone?”

Terushima shook his head. “N-no.”

“Did anyone follow you?”

“I don’t think so.” He gulped. “The receptionist is downstairs, and her husband isn’t on duty tonight.” The stranger behind him sighed, relieved.

Terushima turned around to face him, eyes searching frantically for him until they saw him move away from the shadow of a corner in the room.

The man stepped over his enormous backpack on the floor, walking towards Terushima with both hands up. “I won’t hurt you,” he said, softly. Another step, less steady this time. “Please, help me.” His voice wavered and cracked, and he fell to his knees before face-planting on the floor with a loud _thump_.

Alarm and deep concern towards the stranger took over his senses, and Terushima hurried to his side. He wasn’t able to tell what was wrong with the man face-down on the floor, so he slowly turned him on his back, careful not to make him hurt.

Terushima hadn’t been able to really see the man in the chaos of the market, he had been too shocked to look anywhere else than in front of him in the car, and it had been too dark for him too see anything in the parking lot. But now, under the dim light of the room, Terushima could clearly see the severity of the man’s state.

His black shirt was ripped at the level of his stomach, revealing a rather small but nasty cut on his flesh. Terushima figured the blood on his hands came from him clutching his bloody stomach and soaked shirt. Terushima didn’t know how, but the wound would need to be cleaned and stitched up in order to heal properly.

Heavy panting and wheezes of pain made him look up to the man’s face, appreciating it for the first time—in conditions that left to be desired. His messy black hair was stuck to his forehead with sweat and blood. (Terushima wondered if the fact that it stood up at odd angles was normal or if it was a consequence of what had happened to him.) His skin, which seemed to be naturally tan, was sickly pale.

“You’ve lost a lot of blood,” Terushima murmured. He didn’t realize he had gotten the control of his voice back. “I’m going to need to…” He trailed off, looking around the room. The bathroom door was open.

Terushima mustered all the strength left in his muscles after his “ _long visit day_ ” and, gripping him from his underarms, dragged the wounded man to the bathroom. The design of the room was simple, no bathtub and no raised edges, just a flat floor, which made it easier to drag the man beneath the curtain and into the shower. It would be easier to clean the mess like that.

After pressing the man’s back against the shower wall, Terushima’s hand moved the hem of his ruined shirt. He managed to prompt the man to lift his arms up despite the fact that he looked like he was passed out, eyes closed and head propped back against the wall, and carefully slipped his shirt off. Terushima inspected the wound, careful fingers ghosting over the skin oozing blood. There was too much of it. If he wanted to do anything he’d have to—

Terushima turned the shower on. He knew it would be freezing, as it always took a couple of minutes to warm up, but he hoped the cold would at least wake the man up enough for him to stay conscious. And it did.

The man’s eyes snapped open, and he gasped loudly. His chest and stomach heaved as he drew in sharp breaths. Then he wheezed, the movement of his abdominal muscles surely making his wound scream in pain.

Once most of the blood had been cleaned away by the water, Terushima turned the shower off. “Sorry about that,” he murmured, picking the hand towel from the sink to gently dab it around the wound. The man only grunted in response as he watched Terushima kneeling beside him into the shower, drying him.

When he was done, Terushima discarded the towel to the side. He looked at the wound, which looked less terrible now that it was mostly clean, but still needed to be tended to. Terushima wondered just what he would do, without any supplies at hand. He worried at his lip, quickly passing through the very little options he had.

Hospital? If this man was on the run, and he seemed to be, then that was a very bad idea.

Ask the lady downstairs for help? She would probably advice them to go to the hospital. Helpful but also not. And Terushima didn’t want to explain how the man had slipped into the hotel without paying. He also didn’t want to deal with the old lady calling the police because of that, and he was sure the man didn’t want that, either.

Those were Terushima’s options, and neither of them were viable. He was about to open his mouth to ask the man what to do when the other spoke.

“There’s—rum. In my bag,” the man said, trying to keep the pain from seeping into his voice but failing.

Terushima stilled. He looked at the man’s face, caught between frowning and laughing. “I don’t think this is the right moment—”

The man cut through his words with an exasperated sigh (or a pained gasp?), “The alcohol in it can disinfect wounds.”

It took Terushima a moment. “Oh.” He stood up and walked back into the room.

The zipper made a smooth sound when Terushima opened the backpack. As he did, the man’s voice reached him from the bathroom, “Bring the sewing kit, too. And the scraps of fabric.”

“…What?” What on Earth…

“Just bring them, please.”

Terushima drew in a deep breath and sighed, hoping that whatever the man was thinking about doing with all of that was safe at least.

Thankfully, the three items the man had demanded were the first ones inside the bag. Terushima picked them up and brought them back with him beside the man.

Taking the bottle of rum in his lightly shaking hands, the man uncapped it and poured some of the liquid over his open wound, staining his pants. He hissed and groaned and cursed, hitting his head hard on the tile when he threw it back, pain written across his face. Then he lifted the bottle once more and brought it to his lips. Terushima, wide-eyed, saw the man took one, two… three _long_ gulps from the bottle, putting it back down on the floor with nothing more than a slight wince and a contented sigh. “Makes it feel less painful,” he whispered when he noticed the look Terushima was giving him.

“Okay.” Terushima nodded, baffled. He shook his head a bit. “Okay so, um. What do you want to do with all of this?”

“Not me—” The man’s head thumped against the tile once more, less heavily this time. “—you.”

“Alright, what do you want me to do with these?”

“I want you to sew my wound.” He lightly tapped the sewing kit between himself and Terushima with his finger. “Then I want you to bandage it.” He pointed to the scraps of fabric.

Terushima’s eyebrows shot up. “I have to—what?!”

“Can you sew?” the man asked. He was growing annoyed, probably thinking that he had falsely hoped Terushima could help him. Terushima didn’t want him to think that.

“I can!” Terushima exclaimed. The he added, softly, “My mother taught me how to make my shirts for school when I was young…” He shook his head again, harder this time. “But—with that? You want me to sew you with _that_?”

The both looked down at the floor, where the cheap sewing kit was.

The man shrugged. “Do you have a better idea?”

Terushima averted his gaze. “No…”

“Then sew me up, please.”

Terushima closed his eyes and sighed. He nodded. “Okay. Okay, I’ll do it. Just—” He cringed a little, gesturing vaguely. “It’s going to be messy.”

“I know, just do as best as you can.” Terushima nodded at that.

Retrieving the damp hand towel from where he had put it, Terushima cleaned the excess rum and new streams of blood away from the man’s swollen skin. He put the towel on his lap, thinking he might need it during the procedure, and picked the sewing kit up from the floor.

“Have any color preferences?” he asked, showing the contents of the pouch to the man. On response, the man shrugged and shook his head; Terushima settled for black.

His hands trembled only a little when he passed the thread through the tiny opening of the needle head. When that was done Terushima exhaled a shaky breath, and finally got to the real work.

The man hissed from time to time, but instead of complaining he drank from the rum bottle. Still, Terushima apologized every time he heard him inhale sharply or wheeze through tightly pursed lips.

After a while, Terushima asked, “Why aren’t you doing this yourself?” He was curious to know, but he also hated awkward silences.

“Your hands are shaking less than mine,” the man answered, taking his hand off the bottle for a moment to show it to Terushima.

Terushima hummed, and continued to work. “So, um. If you don’t mind me asking. What happened to you?”

The man huffed a laugh. Surprised, Terushima stopped his work and looked up to him. “It’s pretty damn obvious, isn’t it?” The man said, gesturing to the wound on his stomach. “This happened.”

Terushima rolled his eyes. “I know, but I mean—”

“I know what you mean.” The man sighed, and, if it was possible, his shoulders drooped lower. “Let’s say… I got into a fight with friends of mine, because I discovered they weren’t really my friends. Then they sent another friend of mine to—settle things with me. He got, um, a little angry when I got away from him.”

Terushima’s gaze dropped to his stomach once more, and his hands got back to work. “So this… friend of yours did this to you?”

The man hissed, took another sip from the bottle. “Yeah.”

“And he was the one shooting in the market?”

The man hummed his assertion.

“You have some pretty toxic friends,” Terushima said.

The man laughed softly at that. “I know.”

Terushima didn’t want to work in silence for what he had left to do, so he asked the first thing that came to his mind. “What’s your name?”

He felt the man tense under his fingers at that. Terushima kept working diligently, not wanting to look up so as not to make the man more uncomfortable than he already seemed to be.

After a while, the man murmured, “I don’t want to put you in any more danger.”

Terushima nodded, eyes stuck to his hands and the wound as he felt a lump rise in his throat. He didn’t ask anything else after that.

“Alright, it’s done,” Terushima said after tying the thread and cutting the rest of it. He took a moment to see if it would hold (he hoped so, but he had to admit he wasn’t a professional at all), until he realized that his hand had stayed on the man’s toned, firm stomach for a moment too long. “Sorry,” he muttered, feeling heat creep up his cheeks as he quickly pulled his hand away.

“Don’t worry about it,” the man said, but he was looking anywhere but at Terushima.

Terushima needed to keep his hands busy, so he took the fabric scraps in his hands. “I’m going to—try to bandage you now,” he mumbled.

The man nodded, eyes still averted, and took a gulp from the bottle.

Terushima tried to wrap the wound as best he could with what he had, but he knew it could only be temporary. “I’ll go to the drugstore tomorrow morning and fetch you some—” He stopped abruptly and looked at the man. “You’ll still be here tomorrow, right?”

The man sighed, “I don’t know.”

“But you can’t—you can’t function properly like this!” Terushima exclaimed.

The man cringed, as if hurt by the raise in volume of Terushima’s voice. “I said _I don’t know_. That doesn’t mean _no_.”

Terushima was about to say something when the man’s words registered in his brain. The stopped himself from speaking, mouth hanging open. “Alright,” he whispered in the end.

This time, when he finished bandaging the man, he took his hands away from him as quickly as he could.

“Thanks…” the man said.

“No problem.” Terushima cracked his knuckles nervously. “By the way, I’m Ter—”

“Don’t.” Terushima looked up to him. His expression was pained, but somehow Terushima could guess it wasn’t because of the wound anymore. “The less I know the better. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.” Terushima scratched the back of his neck, cleared his throat. “Um, if you want to take a shower I can lend you some clothes.”

“I have clothes in my backpack, thanks. But, yeah, I’m going to take a shower… Thanks for the suggestion,” he said softly.

Terushima nodded. He was about to turn on his heels and exit the bathroom to give the man some privacy when his voice prevented him from moving.

“I need, um. I need you to help me up. Please.”

He looked down at the man sitting against his shower wall. “Right,” he mumbled, embarrassed at himself. Terushima stepped closer to him and pulled his hand out to him, but the man shook his head. He gestured Terushima to crouch down beside him and looped his arms around his neck. “Oh,” Terushima breathed.

Slowly, Terushima stood up, bringing the man along with him. He was a little heavier than he was—he seemed to have more muscle than him, after all—but thankfully he wasn’t too difficult to support. Once the man was on his feet, Terushima moved away from him, averting his gaze.

Terushima almost tripped over his feet while making his way out of the bathroom. “I’ll—I’ll be outside if you need anything,” he stammered out, a hand against the open door.

“Thanks.”

Terushima nodded, again, and closed the door.

He stumbled through the room until he reached the foot of the bead and collapsed against it on the floor. He was shaking uncontrollably now, tears streaming silently down his cheeks. Sewing and bandaging the man had kept his mind away free of realizing that he was exhausted, completely drained of its energy by the adrenaline induced by the events at the market. _I could have died_. The thought was nagging at him relentlessly, making him feel cold all over.

“Dammit,” he muttered aloud. “Think about how hot he is, stop thinking about what could have happened.” He wiped his cheeks angrily, sniffling loudly into his sleeve. Now that he could finally let those thoughts he had prevented from invading him while he patched the other up, all he could think about was death.

Letting his head fall back against the mattress, Terushima closed his eyes and waited for the man to finish showering.

✧ ✧ ✧

“Are you going to take a shower?”

Terushima’s eyes snapped open, and he turned to look at the man standing outside the bathroom. He looked a bit less miserable now with clean, non-bloody clothes covering his wound, but he still looked pale. Small droplets of water were dripping from his still wet hair, and Terushima barely supressed a sharp intake of breath at how attractive he looked despite looking a little wrecked as well.

“Nah. I’m just going to brush my teeth and go to sleep,” he said, standing up and walking into the bathroom past the man without looking at him.

Terushima popped the cap of his tube of toothpaste and squirted a little on his toothbrush.

“About that.” The man was looking at him, a hand propped against the doorframe to support himself. “You take the bed. I’ll sleep on the floor.”

“Are you nuts,” Terushima said—gargled—around his toothbrush, foam dripping down his chin. He spat into the sink and quickly wiped his chin with the back of his hand. He turned to look at the man, frowning. “If anyone should sleep in a bed tonight it would be you.”

“Uh…” The man gaped at him, unsettled. “But what about you? You’re tired, too…”

“Then how about. Don’t get this wrong, okay, but—” Terushima began, feeling himself blush nonetheless. But really, there was nothing else behind the suggestion he was about to make. “—how about you take one half of the bed, and I take the other?”

Terushima could feel the sweat trickle down his back as more time passed and they kept gazing at each other silently. He gulped heavily several times, hoping the man wouldn’t just turn on his head and run away at the proposition.

“Fair enough,” the man said, finally. He moved away from the door, nodding and turning his back to Terushima.

Terushima released a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding.

After cleaning the sink and checking that the shower was clean of any remaining blood, Terushima exited the bathroom. (He found the bottle of rum—capped, thankfully—by the shower and took it with him to stash it into his backpack.)

Terushima flicked the lights off, and they were left with the only the light of the moon streaming through the window by the bed. The man’s features were outlined in white as he moved into the room, and he looked… truly beautiful. Terushima gulped and sat at the edge of the bed, on “his side,” facing away from the man.

“Goodnight, then,” he whispered, leaning down and resting his head over the pillow. He realized they only had one pillow. “Um, there’s only one—”

“Don’t worry.” The mattress dipped behind Terushima.

They were so close to each other Terushima could literally feel the man’s warmth against his back, even though there wasn’t any physical contatct between the two. He squirmed a little, wondering if the man was regretting having accepted Terushima’s suggestion. The man didn’t move, which was probably good news.

“Goodnight,” the man murmured after a while. “And, thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Terushima mumbled in response. His eyes fluttered close, and he could feel himself becoming heavier, his consciousness starting to slip away.

Whether it was his imagination or it truly happened Terushima wouldn’t have been able to tell. All he knew is that he heard a sound before finally giving away to slumber. He heard a soft voice.

“I’ll stay…” He thought it said.

**Author's Note:**

> [wheeeeeeeee wheeeeeeeeeee wheeeeeeeee](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Cyt0ViDtJ_w)
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> kuroosthighz & clara-wrote-once | tumblr


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